The Golden Globes As Witnessed By Chris Colfer
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: More real life fanfiction, sorry. .:. Title says all. But I swear I'm hot hinting about any pairings in this, I /swear/...


**A/N: Some real-life fanfiction again. Sorry guys; I so silly. Uwah. XD**

**BTW: The Golden Globes? Yeah, totally awesome if not for the fact that **_**The Social Network**_** KEPT WINNING EVERYTHING. I fucking **_**don't understand**_**! It even got 'Best Original Score' over Danny Elfman? **_**DANNY FUCKING ELFMAN?**_** Do people not see how beautiful-and-slightly-creepy-but-oh-so-fitting-and-dramatic his music is, especially for **_**Alice In Wonderland**_** (the movie his music was nominated for)? SERIOUSLY. **_**SERIOUSLY.**_** Stupid fucking **_**Social Network**_**/Facebook; how I despise thee… #scowls#**

**Anyway. Chris Colfer is a beautiful person I shall forever be in love with without him knowing. And getting to see Max Adler on stage with everybody else when **_**Glee actually**__**won**_** is just an added bonus that made my heart give out and my ovaries explode. LOLOLOLOL WUTWUTWUT.**

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I can't believe I'm here.

Sitting at this table, talking to all of my fellow costars, my _friends, _sipping on a non-alcoholic drink since I just _have _to be one of the only people here besides Justin Bieber who is under the legal drinking age. There is pure excitement buzzing all around me; people exchanging words, my costars and I admiring the fact that some of our favorite actors and actresses we grew up with are in the same room as us (I'm pretty sure I scared the wits out of Helena Bonham Carter earlier when I fanboy screamed at her; I just love every crazy role she plays in just about every movie she's ever been in).

And as the award show itself begins, I'm tense but happy, nervous but pretty content, because I'm so thrilled to be here, to be able to experience this, but at the same time, I know I won't win. I'm an actor, yes, and I know I have a fanbase (as odd and humbling as _that _feels), but I know I'm nowhere "big" enough to make it above all of the other older, more experienced individuals here who are vying for the same award in the same category as me.

Still, it's so fun to watch everybody move about, chatting idly and listen to speeches and cheering each other on, clapping when appropriate. I think I heard someone on the red carpet before this mention that this is like prom for adults; and it's true. It's a big party, and everyone is dressed in their most suave, most dapper, formal best. Lea and Amber and Dianna and Jenna and Jane and _all _of the girls look so good. So beautiful, achingly so, and I think any man – gay or not – would be a fool not to notice. And all of the other women here, too; like Natalie Portman; even with her baby-bump, that woman is flawless. And don't get me started on my favorites, like Anne Hathaway.

The men look good, too, admittedly. I don't want to sound biased at all, but I do like how Darren and Max and Cory and Mark and Chord cleaned up. And Kevin's little polka-dotted suit is different and interesting and suits him so well. And Matt just always look so professional, I don't even know how to describe him. I am amused, though, how Ryan – our god of _Glee,_ we like to call him, since he created the entire series with some help from Ian and others – chose to dress in solid black; black shirt, black jacket, black bowtie, etcetera.

Suddenly, about twenty-three minutes in or so (oh, not that I'm _counting _or anything, I _swear_), I hear my name and character called during the list of nominations. I make a face – lips scrunched to one side, a habit I think I picked up from Cory – and shake my head with a smile as Dianna leans in and says, "You're so going to win!" because I know I won't. It's sweet of her to think so, but I'm up against some tough competition, including a fellow gay character from that show _Modern Family._

But then it happens.

There is a soft feminine voice calls out _my name, _"And the Golden Globes goes to… Chris Colfer, _Glee_," and I'm awestruck. Star struck. Shocked, stunned, frozen, numb. I stare blankly ahead, my jaw dropping, and I'm only vaguely aware of lips leaning in to kiss both of my cheeks, of hands on my arms, of Kevin standing up, applauding, and telling me to stand too, because _I won._

I blink hastily, stand, and fumble with buzzing, shaky fingers to button up my jacket again. I suck in my lips to hold back a broad grin as I make my way through the crowd, around the packed tables and people. Jane gives me a half-hug and a shove, telling me "Go!" and Ryan Murphy isn't long afterward, giving me a peck on the cheek that I return as I make my ay toward the stage.

Me? I _won?_ How is this possible? How did the Hollywood Foreign Press choose _me?_ I'm only twenty years old. This is only my first nomination. So many people – actors, actresses, of all shapes and sizes and varying levels of talent – have gotten nominated as much as a dozen times before they actually won something, something like a _Golden Globe award._ But… I did it? I succeeded? This isn't real. I'm almost waiting for someone to pinch me awake and say, 'Just kidding, Chris!'

But no. This is real. As I take the weighted object in my hands and feel fluttering butterflies as thin as lace and fuzzy caterpillars as fuzzy as mustaches squirm and wreak mayhem in my stomach, my heart beating so fast it's non-existent, I realize that all these faces in front of me, as blurry as they're becoming with the tears of joy I'm about to shed (and I surely will later), this is actually happening to me.

Suddenly bursting with an inner sun, I'm breathless and nervous, and words are spilling out before I can stop them, but they somehow around right.

I'm grinning up a storm, now, laughing as I exit the stage, not sure if I thanked everyone I wanted to or meant to, and not sure of anything except Lea's teary eyes and smiling lips, and of all of the faces of approval and compassion greeting me as I return to my seat.

Dianna snaps a photo of me, saying she's going to upload it to her Twitter straight away. And as the night progresses, I don't think anything could make me swoon even further, and yet Jane wins, and her speech is amazing, and her statement of being "anything but falsely humble" reminds me so much of Sue that I have to crack up. And the night couldn't get more perfect after that, even if Lea and Matt don't win.

"But I'm totally fine with it," Lea informs me, smiling brightly, and I know it isn't forced or insincere. She means it. "I was just so happy for you that you won that I didn't care. My night was complete by then. Besides, every other woman in the same category totally deserved it more than me, let's be honest," she laughs, and she's so cute. I give her a hug; I love her attitude towards things, always so unlike her character Rachel. Rachel, had _she _not won, would have thrown a huge hissy fit. But Lea Michele? The girl is so much of a sweetheart that she accepts it in stride since she hadn't expected anything in the first place, just like me.

And yet, somehow, the night becomes more complete when _Glee _as a show wins, and all of us – the largest group of the night, I think – rushes onto the stage, Ryan in center to give the speech and accept the award. I can't believe how happy I am. Is it even possible for a human being to feel this elated in one evening?

I spot Amber greeting Jenna, Matt shaking hands with people, Chord and Mark doing their bromancing thing, and Darren across the way looking a hair awkward, but very handsome. And then I spot Max, and I just _have _to call his name, whisper-hissing behind Chord's and Mark's backs to grab his attention. Max spots me, and sends me one of his smiles as we lean in at the same time to briefly grasp hands – not quite a shake, not quite a hold, just the brushing and grappling of fingertips – and nod at each other. If not for one another's characters, half of the material for season two would be out of the script, and it just makes me wonder how things would be different then. How things would be had I never joined the show, had my role never gotten written in, and the same going for Max.

After the show, it's time to celebrate. I wish Max an early happy birthday – he's turning twenty-five the day after an event like this, and I bet he feels like _Glee _winning like it did as part of a birthday present, because I would feel the same way if I were him – and I join some of my closer cast members in a post-party party.

And then, finally, after all of the talking and hollering and interviews and interactions, I finally make it to my hotel room, award in hand. I place it on the end table and get undressed, all the while stealing glances.

My parents called me first thing after I won, but I couldn't call them back until after the show. They were more ecstatic than me, if possible. They were screaming at the top of their lungs, and I felt like someone truly famous for the first time. I told them and some other people jokingly that I would be sleeping with my Golden Globe, but I just might. It's like a trophy I won not to spite everyone who doubted me, but to empower all of the other misfits who were like me. I tried to portray this in my speech, and I just hope the message came through.

Sighing, I smile and plop down on my hotel bed – pretty soft, considering – and sprawl out. It feels so nice. Everything in my little bubble of a world is complete, somehow. Everything is whole and sunny and lovely, and nothing hurts. Nothing.

And I get under the covers and close my eyes in the wee hours of the morning/night, and think about how I can't wait to get back to work to pump out more of this amazing television series that seems to be so well-liked around the world, and how I'm so lucky to be a part of it and all of the glee (pun intended) that it brings.


End file.
